


The Promised Land

by WStock



Series: The Royal Family of New Orleans [7]
Category: The Princess and the Frog (2009)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 01:55:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29306091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WStock/pseuds/WStock
Summary: Their romantic getaway is coming to an end, and Tiana and Naveen must find a way to move forward with their lives. As, of course, must everyone else.
Relationships: Naveen/Tiana (Disney)
Series: The Royal Family of New Orleans [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1168082
Kudos: 1





	The Promised Land

It was late into the morning by the time the Queen of Maldonia stirred under the beautiful clean white sheets pressed and polished to near perfection in long anticipation of their anniversary getaway. She gazed about her room in the cottage on the small island of Lisle. Rays of light streamed through the azure curtain, and she could see that her husband was nowhere to be found.

Yawning, she cracked her back and pulled herself up. She kicked her slippers off, laying them carefully beside the bed, then walked through a small door in the side of the room into the bathroom. 

It was modest, but as finely and intricately decorated as any of the other rooms - the walls were painted pink, intermittently leading into plain white lilies. There was a golden mirror atop the sink fixture with all manner of lipstick, face powder, mascara, and so forth neatly organized. Locking the door, she slipped her clothes off and left them on the floor. 

The water came out cold as ice and she swabbed fiercely with a sponge at her armpits. She thought of her dream she had arisen from only a few hours earlier. She pictured all the faces of the departed she had known - her father, Ray, Tela, Grandma Julia, Aunt Madaline, Mrs. Potter, Mr. Baker, Mr. Halpstein, and of course King Kabir and the 20 guards. Her thoughts even momentarily drifted to the murdered Duke Lucas and Naomi Gili. None of them could feel her suffering - not in any mortal sense she could comprehend, at any rate. None of them could feel the water that assaulted her senses and made her feel as she was an intrepid explorer making her way narrowly across the Arctic. She had endured almost five solid minutes of this treatment when her husband's words the day before came to her, all at once - "It is a marvelous place. You can just step onto the beach in the morning and bathe in the sea". 

Pulling the cord she edged her way out, carefully stepping into a frilly white bathing gown that lay prepared on a hook. It was a size too large, and unfashionable, most antiquated - she suspected it had been fitted for the Queen Nagina in her youth, perhaps a relic from 1895 or so. 

The sunlight nearly blinded her as she stepped out through the sliding doors onto the veranda. From there she had a clear view of the whole landscape from her backyard - the great white sands lay sprawled out as far as the eye could see, and beyond the blue waves rose up, white foam splashing over the shore.

Gazing at this natural beauty, she could think nothing of the dead. All of her being was infused with the pure joy of being alive, and all at once she ran out and immersed herself in the water. 

The water, basking in the rays of early morning sun, filled her spirit with an unparalleled sense of warmth and shelter, and as she closed her eyes she felt detached from her very body, as if her soul were in an empty plane, and she wished the moment would never end.

Eventually, she found her feet trodding and shuffling through the sand back to the shore. She pulled her soaking robe tighter about her, then made her way to the front of the cottage.

A fire had been built in the middle of the yard, and Naveen sat beside it roasting a duck over a spit. A wooden table had been set out, and Tinjeh and Fredrich sat at it eating duck that had already been roasted and set out on plates.

When Naveen saw his wife, he chuckled and called over to her: "James is being taken good care of by old Amala inside! Come and join us in enjoying the bounties of this land!"

Smiling broadly, she walked up to them and gazed at the appetizing mallard roasting ever so steadily. "My daddy damn well made sure I always did love fine birds," she said, licking her lips at the sight.

Tinjeh nodded, as he tapped a cigarette on the table. "They are the finest game one in Maldonia can obtain. And a pure pleasure to hunt and prepare in their natural territory." He struck a match and held it to his cigarette, then shook it out and flicked it to the grass. "Your Majesty might enjoy joining us for a proper hunt later on."

Tiana glanced over at Naveen, who nodded approvingly around his own cigarette as he struck a match on his thumbnail and held it up. 

"They, of course, exist in abundance for the kill," Fredrich put in, taking a last drag on his cigarette before tossing it into the fire.

"I reckon I might like that later on," Tiana said reflectively, mulling it over. She sat beside Naveen, who took the duck from the spit and let it rest on a cloth. 

And for a long time they merely sat, Naveen smoking his cigarette and exhaling great plumes of blue smoke into the air, while Tiana listened to Tinjeh and Fredrich recount stories of their younger days and merely enjoyed the occasion. She began to take small bites of the bird as she thought. She missed her mother in New Orleans, and Charlotte and Louis, Mabel, Deron, all her friends. And again she felt very strongly Tela's absence, remembering how fond she had been of duck before she took a dose of her cyanide pills.

What are they even doing now? she thought. I'll pay a call to Lottie real soon. Check on Mama and Louis, mayhaps.

Naveen simply looked at her, realizing all too accurately her emotional state and pondering how best to break her out of her private world. He flicked his cigarette to the ground and said, "I know the way you feel. I miss them, too."

"Pachai was a damn fine man," Fredrich said to her with a nod. "Many a joke and a good cigar we shared over a summer night back in Maldonia."

"Hasn't been easy for Akriti, either," Tinjeh added. He took a long drag on his cigarette as he leaned back, lost in reminiscence, then took it from his lips and breathed the smoke into his lungs. "It was a night late in '19 when we both, new on the job and fresh out of training, went down to town, and made a proper night of it, lost ourselves in the finest rum Maldonia has to offer. He tapped that fine lady on the shoulder...." He flicked ash off his cigarette. "She threw his head in the punch, and in the morning I found they were married and Bolda knows it was true love ever since." 

He tossed his cigarette into the grass and laughed heartily. Fredrich joined in, and even Tiana managed a bittersweet smile. 

Naveen quietly tapped another cigarette on his pack. Fredrich hastily struck a match and moved in to light it before holding it to his own. "You would like to see your family again? That is it, too?" he said, looking his wife straight in the eyes.

Tiana could only nod. "Ain't seen 'em for close to three months now. Kinda hard on a girl." 

Naveen nodded in understanding, and took another drag of his cigarette, forcing the smoke deep into his lungs.

Suddenly Tiana grinned. "I hope Lottie ain't been breakin' no more movin' picture screens," she said, nudging him. 

Naveen laughed boisterously and flicked ash onto the grass. 

Tinjeh and Fredrich traded uncomfortable grins. "Quite the eccentric, is she not, Miss LaBouff?" Tinjeh said awkwardly. Fredrich blew a ring of smoke out of the corner of his mouth.

At last Tiana did start to feel a weight off her shoulders. She was with friends, and still only 21 after all, it seemed the good days were not over yet. 

Tinjeh pulled a leg off another fresh duck and chewed at it. "Has anyone been listening to Maldonian radio? Japan has finally had enough of the communists and Lenin worshipers that infest its society. The entire country was scoured last night. More than a thousand arrests." He struck a match on the table and lit another cigarette.

Naveen looked over at Tiana again. "That robe is not quite sufficient. Let's go inside and I'll show you into a fine ladies' hunting suit."

Tiana nodded, and he held out his hand to help her up.

()()()()

Mortimer LaBouff lay in his bed in the great lonely mansion where he made his residence in Lafayette, some hundred miles or so from New Orleans to the west. It was an old Victorian canopy bed - ornate carvings of lions battling cobras built into the metal frame above his head, four light brown pillows behind him - the sheets were the finest brown linen.

Indeed, as he stared up at the finely-paneled brown canopy, he reflected that it was not at all an unpleasant place to die. But then that was little comfort, knowing that he might not make it to 70. And the doctors had made it perfectly clear he would die - "Eight months, at best, you'll never make it a full year and there's nothing can be done about it" - that was what they had told him. One month ago. That was when he learned he had cancer in his throat, and little that could be done. 

He had felt numb at first, unable to grasp the concept of his own mortality so clearly. His bed was one of the most comfortable, and one of the finest available to man, and yet he struggled to get a few hours' sleep many nights. The idea of simply ceasing to exist one moment and never even being conscious of it terrified him. And that was sleep! Sleep, that comforter of man he had known all his life, he knew now was only a prelude to the inevitable. He realized now that he had lived his life as though he would always be there, living it -- he had always been astonished by death. And he remembered the day that his father had died as though it were yesterday - Thornton LaBouff, a millionaire, one of the most powerful men in Louisiana, 54 years old, dead on the floor with no warning. 

AUGUST 2, 1887. The date was engrained into his memory. And on that day 40 years past, he a man of 29, had risen from his bed in that very mansion. The mansion was in good shape then, its construction having been ordered 13 years prior by Thornton LaBouff - he, the powerful self-made sugar baron - when Mortimer his youngest son was due to move out of the house. (His siblings Edgar and Cecilia, 2 years and 4 years older respectively, resided elsewhere.)

He walked into the dining room where his beautiful young wife, Clara, sat as the cook finished making breakfast in the kitchen.

"Hello, my love," Mortimer said, pulling up a chair beside her. "Up early this morning, wasn't you?" 

Clara nodded. "Been having bad dreams."

"Less headaches, though," Mortimer remarked.

"Thank God for that," Clara agreed.

"Let's have a look at the stocks today...." Mortimer said, signaling a butler at the corner of the room. Loyal young Harry faithfully set out the morning newspaper beside his master and lit a cigar for him, just as he would every day until his fatal carriage accident in 1899.

Food was laid out and Mortimer indulged himself as he read. He could hear his youngest son Eli crying in the sitting room as a maid fed him.

"Bert is out playing in the garden," Clara told her husband with a soft smile. 

When breakfast was over, Mortimer walked out into the garden and found his eldest son tossing weeds at the head gardener.

When Bertram saw his father, he ran to him. "Daddy!" he cried, smiling up with gaps in his teeth. "Grandpa here! Grandpa's carriage just came out front!"

Mortimer raised his eyebrow quizzically, then laughed. "Well, let's go on out front and meet him, my boy!" Out of the corner of his eye he saw the head gardener sigh in relief as they walked back into the house.

After a moment's explanation to Clara all three came outside just as Thornton LaBouff pulled up in his grand horse-driven carriage with its purple brocade, driven along by his faithful chauffeur, Lee.

He could still hear every intonation of that gruff, yet friendly voice in the back of his head: "Mortimer, my boy! Come to me, lad!" 

Mortimer came to his father and gave him a broad smile. "Good to see you again, Daddy. How's Mama?"

"Fine, just fine," Thornton grunted, striking a match on the wheel of his carriage and hastily lighting a cigar. "Gossipin' plenty more these days, but what in the hell do you expect from the women?"

Mortimer laughed. So did the six-year-old Bertram. Clara simply rolled her eyes and went back inside, the three LaBouff men following behind her.

Harry met them, and quickly took the elder LaBouff's coat and hung it up. 

"Been to see Edgar last week," Thornton said boisterously blowing smoke rings. "His stocks been boomin', and he's happier than a clam." 

"Hope to see him again soon," Clara said politely. 

"Got you in the middle of breakfast, ain't I?" Thornton remarked suddenly. "Well, you can spare a turkey leg or two, eh?" So they all moved back to the breakfast table and chatted amiably for around half an hour over fine food.  
"Where's little Eli?" Thornton said, finishing off his turkey leg. 

"Out in the dining room," Mortimer said. "Should be finished by now."

Thornton scraped a match across his front teeth, and fire flared between his finger-tips as he lit another cigar. "Bring him in to see me! Boy ought to know when his granddad's around!"

Clara smiled. "I'll bring him right in," she said, leaving the room.

Bertram, standing at the door, grinned through the gap in his front teeth. "He's a real messy eater."

"Well, he ain't learned no better yet, Bert. Only 3 years old," Mortimer reminded him.

"Quite right, quite right." Thornton leaned back and blew great clouds of blue smoke from his mouth. "Strong healthy boy, he'll be a young man to be damn proud of." He laughed. 

Mortimer looked over at the door where Bertram stood, hands against his hips, and all seemed fine with the world. Then all at once Thornton gasped and fell backward, his face growing pale. His chair was overturned and he toppled onto the ground. His cigar had flown from his lips and been mashed into the carpet by his left elbow. 

It all happened so quickly Mortimer could scarcely react, stunned. Bertram simply stared from the door, stunned and unable to look away as his grandfather gasped for breath, taking deep, wheezing hacks. 

Clara, leading her 3-year-old hobbling child in, gasped and put a hand over her mouth as she walked through. Thornton could barely muster the energy to breathe as his body writhed and jerked, the vessel within no longer holding any control over it. Eli fell forward, crying and sobbing hysterically, and Bertram seized his hand, his eyes wide.

The air was suddenly filled with a horrible odor, and the body on the floor lay completely stiff, any spirit within decidedly absent.

Mortimer simply stared at his father, taking in the hollow waxwork figure that one minute ago was a human being lying on the floor. The world seemed unreal, a bizarre nightmarish hallucination, and he felt faint. Thornton LaBouff, one of the most powerful men in Louisiana, such a strong, intimidating figure, now non-existent even as he lay, more insignificant than the wallpaper that still remained, the room unchanged and passive to the silly insignificant events of the human beings contained within.

The servants had been scarcely able to watch this rich man's death, and they simply bowed their heads, and those who could removed their hats.

Mortimer fell to the floor, sobbing, great tears flooding from his face. You could scarcely hear him, for Eli was crying too, wildly sobbing and only stopping to take in hysterical, awful gulps of air -

He shook his head and looked around the room. It all had seemed so vivid, but his eldest son walked in now, a forty-six-year-old man with thin brown hair, a curled mustache, and strong nimble limbs, a long plain white cigarette expelling a thin stream of smoke in its holder between his teeth. 

Bertram calmly walked to the side of the bed and took a deep breath of smoke into his lungs as he tapped his cigarette against an ashtray on the bedside table and took a newspaper from his pocket.

"Morning, Father," he said cheerfully, and dropped the newspaper at ailing Mortimer's side.

He picked it up and looked at the date. MARCH 16, 1928. It was printed clearly over the front page of The State-Times. He well remembered his father's obituary printed in the same paper, and the events of the next few days in 1887 flashed through his mind briefly. The coroner was summoned, and quickly determined he had suffered a heart attack. He was buried in the LaBouff family crypt soon after, alone until his wife Emilia was placed carefully beside him in 1909, alone beneath two simple words and the numbers "1833-1887" carved in rock, the last evidence of his life outside of inconsequential actions and faulty, mortal and indefinite human memory. 

Faulty, mortal and indefinite human memory contained inside a body afflicted with an incurable, unpreventable disease, Mortimer LaBouff thought.

His wife, Rachel came in and looked at him. "How’s you feelin’ this mornin’?" she asked sweetly.

Mortimer gazed up into her clear blue eyes, her long black hair shining down upon him. Seven wives he'd had now. Dear Clara was dead now going on 36 years, dear Minnie, Maude, and Florence all gone and in the grave too. He did love her, though. He did love her dearly, after ten years alone after he left Grace in 1914. 

"Only a little better," he gasped. He felt for the cupboard beside his bed and reached for the box of cigars within. Bertram handed him one, exhaling smoke from his nostrils, and he took it, snapping a match between his thumb nail and lying back as the tip of his cigar flared up and he shook the now-useless piece of wood out.

He exhaled the smoke out of the corners of his mouth carefully, and looked over, first at his wife, then to his eldest son, holding him in his weak, feeble gaze. "My son.... bring me my youngest son," he gasped softly. "I must see Eli."

()()()()

The ladies' hunting suit which Naveen provided for his wife was indeed a beautiful garment, fashionable for the enterprising young lady of the 'twenties - and comfortable to wear, to boot. So Tiana's mood was already lightened as she walked out to the small woods that grew in the grassland ahead of the beach. 

Tinjeh and Fredrich met her eagerly with guns on their knees, while Naveen stayed behind in the cottage to add his signature to and read various reports that had been written up for him.

It was late into the afternoon by the time he came to check on the hunt, and by that time Tiana's mood had improved increasingly. Perhaps it was due to her anger at the cruelty of all those people so pointlessly being lost, but no sooner did she see a bird than she pulled the trigger on her rifle and shot it dead. At the hour's end, she had killed sixteen birds in total, while Fredrich carried ten carcasses back to the beach and Tinjeh a mere six.

Naveen looked them over approvingly. "Well, well, well," he said, tapping a cigarette on his knee. "A damn good job you appear to have done. Thirty-two fine birds slaughtered, and ready for the kitchen. If we store them properly, they should make meal for many a week." He struck a match on his thumbnail to light his cigarette.

Tiana beamed with pride. "Hell, it's too damned easy, almost," she admitted. "They're like sitting targets."

"Oh, Your Majesty, don't be so modest," Tinjeh said. "It is fine work. I could scarcely manage 1 duck the first time my father took me hunting." Fredrich elbowed him mockingly, and he slouched forward for a minute before muttering, "Well, I was six."

Naveen sighed, breathing a wreath of blue smoke into the cool air. "Ready to go back home?" he said. "Plenty of work to be done."

"All right," Tiana said. "Reckon I missed Aanchal and a few of the others." She grit her teeth, thinking of Naveen's mother back at home, and how callously she had ordered the deaths of nearly 400 people and wept not a tear for even one of their 28 loyal guards. She had loathed her since the moment she dismissed the death of Naveen's blood sister and her good friend with a smile and a "Good riddance", but now there was no doubt in her mind. The ex-Queen Nagina was an evil woman, and she could barely stand being in her very presence. 

"Ship shall set sail bright and early tomorrow morning," Naveen said dispassionately, taking a deep drag on his cigarette and letting the coal flare up. 

Tiana shrugged and they simply walked on through the forest, Tiana sheepishly gazing around for a while before she suddenly caught sight of a small green head sticking out through the trees.

Naveen, Tinjeh, and Fredrich's hearts all jumped as the shotgun blasted with no warning. Tinjeh actually jumped backwards, and then before they had any time to react, four more gunshots rang out, and 4 more ducks lay dead before the proud Queen, blowing off her gun barrel. 

The three men stood stunned for half a minute, then they all rang out in grand applause. 

"Three cheers for the Queen! Three cheers for the Queen!" Tinjeh cried.

So they all cheered, and made their way back to the beach. On the way, a duck suddenly flew onto Naveen's face, and in a second he stuck his knife through its back.

"That will be 37 fine birds slaughtered, and ready for the kitchen," Naveen said with a grin. Tinjeh, Fredrich, and Tiana all politely clapped.

"Yes, yes, fine job," Tinjeh said. Suddenly yet another mallard swooped down and in another heartbeat he was away, carrying the bright red hunting cap of Tinjeh Picardy in its teeth. 

Tiana grinned at her bodyguard, who simply stared in bemusement, reaching for his head and stroking his mustache. Fredrich burst into laughter, and Tiana and Naveen quickly joined him.

Tinjeh appeared very shell-shocked and silent, slouching awkwardly as he walked, then all at once he burst into mad laughter, too, and they all simply stood there laughing and Naveen clapped him on the back and lit a cigar for him, so that he was unable to speak for pride. Naveen quickly took out 2 more cigars for himself and Fredrich, lighting them with a hearty "Hip hip hurrah!"

So the King wore a huge grin on his face as he walked back to the cottage with his Queen, Tinjeh and Fredrich lugging the carcasses to the servants' quarters.

Naveen went on and on at length around his cigar about how many feasts would be held with the fine duck meat, but Tiana's shoulders began to slump as she made her way with Naveen. He looked over at her and became nervous. His wife had been feeling so much better.......

At last she took him by the shoulder and said, "Naveen, can this wait?"

"Certainly, my darling. What is wrong?" he said with concern.

Tiana sighed and passed ahead of him into the cottage. And as soon as they entered that magnificent entrance hall, the Queen sank into a chair and rubbed her forehead.

Moving slowly but steadily, Naveen sat beside her. He took a deep pull on his cigar, then breathed the smoke into the air and looked her in the eye. "What is wrong?" he asked.

Tiana sighed. "I really do want to see my family, Naveen," she said, looking at the floor. "Sure as hell I need it."

Naveen merely nodded, his face impassive. He took a final puff on his cigar, then blew the smoke into the air and butted it out into an ashtray. "You have been missing them for quite a while now, have you not?"

"Ever since all them folks fell out that goddamned window a month back," Tiana said. She went on slowly, quietly, internalizing all of her sadness and anger. "I mean, all those men I loved so much forced to kill people who hadn't done no harm.... All those people I ain't even know, dead - just like that." She snapped her fingers. "And the servants, Jhansi, Maashi, Griselda, Nahil, Bijnor, quit on us just like that. And how can I blame 'em? Can't say I'd like to work where people’s gettin' shot to death all 'round me, neither. But damn, that's thirty-three folks I knew right there, all gone. My God." She threw up her arms questioningly. "I mean, if that could happen, just all like that, then, well, what in the hell is gonna happen next?" Her voice grew more melancholy and far away. "I’ve gotta see my friends. Mama, Lottie, Agnes, Georgia, Deron, Earl..... They're just memories to me right now. I mean, they're real to me because I know they're alive and I could still see them. But, hell, what if they died? What if we get back to Maldonia and I find out that they've all just passed away in their sleep? I still have the memories, and I still know 'em, so what's the difference? When I ain't seen somebody for 3 months and I ain't seen them for a minute, who's to say they ain't dead? Tinjeh could be shot dead out there right now, and why the hell would it matter? Cause we wouldn't see the poor fella no more. Well, we can't see him right now, so..." She shrugged. "Hell, who's to say he ain't dead?"

Naveen listened to all of this very carefully, though he did not say a word. Then he reached out, touched his wife's shoulder, and spoke to her very calmly and reasonably. "Tinjeh is alive because he is out there alive and we will see him again, because he is not going to be shot dead and he will be working as our bodyguard four years from now. My sister is alive because she was alive, and we knew her, and we loved her with all of our hearts and she lives on in your dreams and mine." He gripped Tiana's shoulder with his other arm, and his expression became more grave, as he stared straight into her eyes, as though boring into her private soul. "My father died two years ago, Tiana, and he is alive with me today because there is hardly a day passes that I do not think of him and that I do not compare myself to him, and because he is with me in my dreams any two nights out of a week's." Tiana said not a word. Then he spoke even more seriously, carefully tapping a cigarette on his knee. "Deron, Earl, Agnes, Georgia, Charlotte, and your mother are still alive because they are alive in New Orleans and you will be seeing them again very soon," he said. "We will get a bit more work cleared up at home, make the necessary arrangements, and you will be on a ship to New Orleans, just as you need to be." He smiled, then quickly struck a match across his front teeth to light his cigarette. 

Tiana's heart felt as if it would burst with joy, and she drew her arms around him and kissed him, holding him tight.

()()()()

There was a time when there was a thrill of being the richest man in New Orleans, a real pleasure, and he would spend his evenings inviting all of his best chums over to play pool or throw a party just for laughs and go out to the bar, but with his 44th birthday coming up in August and the inescapable awareness that he was getting closer to fifty every year, Eli LaBouff found he spent his middle-aged evenings simply sitting around in his parlor smoking one of his finest cigars and knowing the tobacco would never taste as rich as it did when he was in his prime.

But the very image of blissful youth itself, Miss Charlotte LaBouff, could not say the same, and as she made her way through the parlor towards God knows what wild escapade, he stopped her with a faint acknowledgement of a "Hey there, darling" in her direction.

Miss LaBouff came to an abrupt stop and looked over at her father. "Oh, hey there, Big Daddy. I'm just gettin' a wiggle on to Tiana's Palace to catch up with Alice, Marie, and Dorothy, then I reckon we catch the pictures, head along back for jazz hour, don't wait up for me at supper." And with this bout of extroversion revealed, she was off to indulge, skipping gleefully from the room. 

"All right, darling. I just wanna have a talk with you first," Big Daddy said casually taking a puff of his cigar, exhaling the smoke and tapping ash onto the tray set out by his armchair. Charlotte stopped in her tracks, a bit surprised, then smiled.

"Well, well, sure, Big Daddy, what do you want to talk about?" she asked.

Big Daddy butted out his cigar in the ashtray and stood up, pulling a chair out for his daughter by the nearby desk. "Sit down." He patted the chair with a kindly expression, and she sat quickly, her eyes wide and a blissful smile on her face.

He started lackadaisically: "Now, darlin', you don't know how many...." As he looked into his daughter's face, she continued to look unnaturally content, not appearing to blink or waver her smile at all. He found himself losing his nerve, gazing around the room, wondering if he could truly complete what he had to say. "Happy memories I have of you right here in this very room. Lord knows you've spent your whole goddamn life right here in this mansion, ain't you?" he went on cheerfully, grinning himself. 

"Mmm-hmm," Charlotte said, nodding her head up and down.

In order to quell his tension, he stood up again and began walking casually about the room. He went over to the couch and stopped, reflecting as if in drawn from a personal memory well, "You spent the first year of your life out in that nursery straight down the hall... but I can still remember not long after you was born and your mama came home from the hospital, I invited your Uncle Edgar, your Aunt Cecilia, Great-Grandma Emilia, your Grandpa, Grandma, and all my best chums, we sat right here at this coffee table--" He walked up to the long line of chairs set at the coffee table. 

"Yes, yes," Eli's daughter continued nodding, having heard this all too many times. She ran up to the liquor cabinet, stocked with fine champagne and caviar just as it had been on that day in 1907. "You offered 'em champagne, you handed out cigars--"

Big Daddy found his train of thought somewhat interrupted, but went on, "Yes, then I..."

His speech cut off abruptly as his daughter reached into the box of cigars on top of the cabinet, removed one and abruptly stuck it into his mouth. The young lady struck a match on the side of the cabinet and carefully lit his cigar, giggling "Except not for Grandma, of course." She shook the match out daintily, rolling her eyes with a "Yes, yes, I've heard it all a million times." And she set the charred match on the cabinet and walked back to her chair, her hips bouncing and her eyes bright with the gleam of hearing something familiar. 

Sighing, Big Daddy took his cigar from his mouth and blew smoke from his nostrils.

"Right, right. And it has been 21 long gay years since then..." he said, spreading his arms. "Your mama is good and dead, but every time I look around this house and see her picture..." He pointed to the array of photographs that lined the wall - Charlotte's late mother holding her tight as a baby covered carefully in a blanket - her parents sitting together on the grand settee holding her in their laps - Eli shoveling ice cream into his daughter's mouth at the local sweet shop - and last their eyes both went over the shot of Charlotte holding her darling white cat a bit too tightly at the age of 5 and ignoring the dizzied look in its eyes that signaled it was longing to get away and take a nap.

"I know she is watching you," Big Daddy went on, "and I know sure as hell she's been very proud of you during these past 21 years. Every day, I can see the memories in these halls - the day you learned to walk, the day you first brought Tia over, and all those birthday parties you had..."

"Oh, yeah," Charlotte smiled, staring into space with both hands against her face, as she too was lost in reminiscence. Giggling, she threw out her right hand and recalled, "Do you.... Do you remember the one where we had the party at Tia's house, and she invited her friends from the neighborhood over, we played hide and seek, and when we found Elisa hiding in the closet we both sprayed her with our water pistols, and then she dumped the cake in Tia's face, so Tia poured a whole bottle of grape juice down her back, and then we both chased each other around the house until she got a whole bag of flour and you came in to see how the party was going and I ducked when you came in, so she just went and dumped the whole bag in your face? That was a great one, weren't it? Golly, do you remember that?"

Big Daddy tried to mask his discomfort. "Why, y-yes, I surely do, absolutely. And anyway, anyway..... I just get so damn proud of you when I think of seeing you grow all these years, and thinking about the day when you would be a woman, and - well, shit - here we are." He sat back in his chair and simply looked his daughter over. "Good Lord, I can't quite believe it. It seems like just yesterday you was a little baby crawling across my lap, but like I said... here we are." 

Having said that, an abrupt silence fell over the room. They both seemed to be stunned over the full weight of the emotions that had been released, which seemed almost palpable in the air.

Nearly a full minute went by before Charlotte spread her hands and then rubbed them together, crying "My, oh, my, how the time does go by!" with a laugh.

Big Daddy gave a benevolent smile, and went on, leaning closer to his daughter: "And I just wanted to let you know, sweetheart, that even though it'll be hard to say goodbye, when you find yourself a rich young fella I'll do the best I can to see you go." He took a deep drag on his cigar and exhaled smoke rings into the air. "And the reason I'm saying this is because I know any day you could middle aisle some nifty young son of a bitch" - he flicked ash onto the tray - "...and I want you to know I'm ready. That time always comes, and what's more, if you ever decide you're sick of the pickins out here, I've got a house up in Baton Rouge just waitin' for you. And you won't have to put up with me no more, have the place to yourself and all the servants your heart desires."

He threw it all out there without remorse, knowing he had to do it quickly so he would hardly believe he had done it at all.

He had imagined saying it countless times, but he had never pictured his daughter's reaction to be so, well, nonchalant. She scarcely seemed bothered at all.

"Oh, daddy, that's so keen. Don't worry, when the time comes, I'll middle aisle the real McCoy and you can come visit us whenever you want. Okay, Big Daddy?" she said eagerly.

"Attagirl, sweetheart. And how," her father forced out with a shrug.

Charlotte wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him, still flashing that big smile.

She released her arms, then slapped him on the shoulder and said, "Well, I'd best get a wiggle on. Gotta run into Vinny and the girls at Tiana's Palace. See if we catch a good picture today." And with that and a few giggles, she was out of the room in a flash.

She was out of the mansion itself before Eli LaBouff had the chance to clumsily wave goodbye. And having concluded his talk, wondering whether it made any impact on her at all, he simply lay back in his chair and took a deep melancholy drag on his cigar.

There was no real thought in his mind that any of his words had actually registered. It seemed to him the one constant in life - his daughter always remained the same, she ran downstairs every day to join her friends for mindless pleasure in the Crescent City, and there was never the slightest indication she grew weary of the day-to-day routine or that, 21 years old now, she would ever feel the need to claim her independence and leave the mansion for good. 

But life does not remain constant forever! he thought, reflecting on those endless years of being raised in the old mansion under his father's thumb. He had thought then that would be his whole life. He could not even comprehend how it could become altered when at every moment his life was perfectly preserved just as it was. And now, he could only think of his father lying in bed, already having been told that he was marked for death.

He had to see him again - one more time, if only to see that last vestige of the old life slip away into the mist.........

()()()() 

In its own curious way Tiana's mood really did improve as the day wore on. Naveen had enjoyed the morning hunt with the men so greatly that he eagerly consented to the idea of Tinjeh and Fredrich having dinner with them, and Tiana spent an hour carefully cooking and preparing all the food in the kitchen without an ounce of assistance from anyone else.

Naveen sat at the table listening to the radio (which played a strange mixture of traditional Maldonian and classical music and had very erratic reception) as he watched Tiana leaning over a gas oven to place the roast duck inside.

"Is everything coming along well, my beauty?" he crooned, as he took a cigarette from his pocket.

Tiana nodded. "Fine meal of roast duck, jambalaya, and New Orleans gumbo comin' right up."

"I feel almost too full of duck already," Naveen remarked as he struck a match on the table top. "Can't we give some of that wonderful chicken and turkey a fair chance to represent the fine-feathered race?" He closed his eyes as he held the match to his cigarette and the bright orange flame between his fingers set the tobacco afire.

Tiana looked over at him and smiled. "They're already fresh, so I reckon we can have a little bit ourselves before bed, and in early morning before we leave tomorrow," she said, casually striking a match on the cooktop and lighting the burners.

"Assuming we don't start sprouting feathers by then," Naveen remarked, as he took a deep drag on his cigarette and exhaled smoke into the air.

Tiana laughed, and indeed Naveen, Tinjeh, and Fredrich too felt in high spirits when, an hour later, Tiana came to the table where the three were seated and lifted the lid off of 3 platters to reveal the main courses. 

"I always have been fond of your country's famous gumbo," Fredrich said as he held a lighter behind his hand to a cigarette. "Though it can never compare to the best Maldonian recipes, of course."

"No. It blows them all away," Naveen shot back. 

They all laughed. Tiana smiled as she struck a match and lit the two candles held carefully in their green rookwood holders. Tinjeh and Fredrich were smiling, too - but Naveen could see her dark brown hands shaking as she led the flame over the wicks - then she made a quick haphazard attempt to shake the match out and flicked it to the tablecloth. The end was still red-hot with ember, and the tablecloth caught fire. Tinjeh's eyes filled with alarm, but Naveen quickly beat the flame out with his fist. 

The tablecloth had a round hole burned into it with black ash around the edges, but all three men acted as if they did not notice, so Tiana sat down and began to help herself to the jambalaya.

All enjoyed themselves deeply in conversation which only turned occasionally to the more serious goings-on of Maldonian politics, but they could all nevertheless sense Tiana's continued tension. Her dark hands continued to tremble, and Naveen abruptly cleared his throat.

"Now, gentlemen," he announced in a roundabout way, hastily removing a cigarette from his case and striking a match across the table top to light it, "there is an important matter relating to your royal Queen and myself that I would like to discuss." He shook the match out and tossed it over his shoulder, grinning nervously at Tiana, who seemed suddenly startled.  
"We will be happy to hear it, Your Majesty," Tinjeh said with a smile. 

The end of his cigarette glowed as Naveen inhaled smoke deeply into his 22-year-old lungs, then let it all out in one quick flow of words. "In light of recent events, the Queen has decided that she would like to return to her hometown of New Orleans for a significant period."

Tinjeh and Fredrich both appeared unsurprised. Fredrich said, "We hope Her Majesty will be cheered by the chance to visit her family once more." He tapped his cigarette on the ashtray that lay on the table.

Naveen smiled a very unnatural, forced grin and glanced over at his wife, who was now making a strange attempt to examine the silverware to ensure it was all positioned according to Maldonian custom. He now cleared his throat and went on in the same even tone: "There is however one matter that should be discussed. Only a month ago, a young woman who was acquainted with one of Her Majesty's friends went missing. Her bedroom window had been broken into, and it is believed that she had been kidnapped by members of the Ku Klux Klan because of her race." He narrowed his eyebrows. "I trust you are both familiar with who the Ku Klux Klan are and what they represent?"

Tinjeh and Fredrich glanced at each other, then both nodded darkly. Naveen then looked at them very seriously and said, "Her corpse was discovered at the house 2 days later." Tiana had known he would say it, but her head fell to the table and there she stayed, unable to look up. 

For a while Tinjeh and Fredrich could only hold their mouths open in horror, lost for words. They both bowed their heads. 

"How... how old was she?" Tinjeh asked carefully. Fredrich shot him a quick glare.

Tiana shot up quickly and said sharply, "She was kidnapped on her 25th birthday!" then promptly ducked back into the table, this time rubbing a hand over her forehead. 

Naveen looked at her nervously for a moment, then said: "The cause of death was difficult to ascertain, but it is believed that she was poisoned." He leaned back and took a deep drag of his cigarette, blowing smoke from his nostrils and sighing. "At any rate, both Her Majesty and myself have been concerned that there may be a threat directed at her person if this racially-directed violence has gotten as severe as it appears to be."

Tinjeh and Fredrich both nodded gravely. Tinjeh placed a supportive hand on the Queen's shoulder. She looked up into his eyes. "We will be here for Her Majesty, always vigilant to protect her from harm." He patted her on the head. 

Naveen frowned solemnly, and inhaled smoke deep into his lungs. "You will need to be. You cannot leave her side for a moment."

Tinjeh and Fredrich both nodded solemnly.

"You must remain vigilant always, alert for any hint of a threat. In addition, certain areas of Louisiana and New Orleans, will have to be avoided entirely, those that have been the sites of the most racially-directed violence and general activity of the Klan," Naveen went on, tapping his cigarette against the ashtray. "Shreveport, operating as the state headquarters for the Klan, will need to be avoided entirely." 

He kept glancing at Tiana, expecting her to comment at the very least, but she said nothing, and had gone back to staring at the table. Tinjeh and Fredrich only silently nodded. In truth Tiana could not really hear Naveen at all, too lost in a deep sea of her own thoughts. 

"In addition, the Queen ordinarily visits for around 2 weeks, with the exception of her last visit, which lasted only 4 days. Now, we will have to cut that time by half...." Naveen continued. His voice faded into a distant drone for Tiana as she got up from the table, went through the red door and down the hallway into the bedroom.

It took Naveen a moment to notice that she had gone. It was only when he caught Tinjeh and Fredrich's eyes moving down the hallway after her that he  
became aware of her absence. There was an awkward silence.

Tinjeh cleared his throat to break the tension. "We understand, Your Majesty. These are all excellent precautions, and it is only a shame that this potential threat to Her Majesty's person does exist. Now, perhaps we should check on Her Majesty together?"

Naveen thought for a moment, then nodded. Fredrich put out his cigarette in the ashtray, and the three of them walked down the hallway together.

Naveen knocked on the door of the large marble bedroom, then paused, tentatively listening for a response.

At length they heard Tiana's voice come back. "I'm all right, darlin'. Don't y'all worry yourselves about little ol' me."

Cautiously Naveen opened the door. He, Tinjeh, and Fredrich looked in and found the room to be bathed in darkness.

They heard the sound of the scraping of a match, and the dark shape of Tiana became visible by the wardrobe, illuminated by the bright orange flame she held between her fingers as she lit a candle that stood by the mirror, lighting up the thin space with her.

"Frightful dark in here, ain't it, gentlemen?" she said, smiling awkwardly at them and shaking the match out. Quietly, cautiously, as though she were in some sort of daze, she walked across the room to one of the marble pedestals that were planted against the wall. She struck another match neatly off of the pedestal in one stroke, and then another corner of the room was lit up as she lit two more candles that lay on the pedestals. 

She continued to perform this queer ritual almost mindlessly, walking about the room and striking match after match, lighting every corner of the room. Naveen marveled at the control, as the deadly bright orange flame appeared again and again between her able fingers, and she delicately maneuvered it toward wick after wick, lighting two at once effortlessly, and shaking out the match just before the flames came short of reaching her fingers.

Naveen glanced over at Tinjeh and Fredrich, who appeared slightly nervous. Then Tinjeh moved forward and took up the matchbox that stood on the wardrobe. "You're quite right, Your Majesty," he said, and struck one of the matches against the box. "Let us rectify that." He bent down, and held it to another candle, fumbling to get it to light the wick. The flame burned almost at his fingertips, and he shook the match out in alarm. He struck another off his thumbnail and managed with some effort to light the wick cleanly, then hurriedly shook it out. Tiana walked over, struck the match against the mirror, and lit three at once almost with a single stroke.

"Good job, Tinjeh," she said with an affectionate smile. "Does just wonders to the place's mood, don't it, boys? My mama always said that candles do just wonders to create a mood."

Tinjeh nodded with an awkward grin, then walked to the last area of the room where two candles sat unattended to by the bed. He struck another match and held it to the candle's wick. 

Naveen glared at him sharply. "Tinjeh?" 

Tinjeh looked over at his King, confused. Naveen narrowed his eyebrows. "I believe this situation might be improved if you were to leave the Queen and myself alone." 

Fredrich nodded at Naveen and shot Tinjeh a sharp glance. At once, Tinjeh gave the King a look of recognition and said, "Of course, your Majesty. We hope you will be able to put the Queen's fears at rest."

Fredrich took Tinjeh firmly by the arm and the two hastily walked out of the room.

Naveen made his way over to the great wooden bed and for a while he simply sat there. The all-consuming darkness was broken only by the bright candle flames that flashed and licked the air in every corner of the room. He watched the peals of blue smoke from his cigarette rise into the air before him and took a deep drag, reveling in the rich tobacco smoke as he inhaled it deep into his lungs. The orange tip lit up his wife's face as she quietly sat down beside him.

For awhile, they simply sat together, watching the blue smoke. Tiana looked into her husband's face and he blew a large plume of smoke right over her head. "Naveen?" He looked at her and her face was contorted into something that resembled a depraved version of a smile, her lips curled over her teeth in a way that was clearly forced together to keep herself from crying. 

"Damn Klan. Murdered that poor girl for no goddamned reason at all. Just 'cause they ain't like the color of her skin." Tiana's eyes seemed to glaze over, as she was lost in thought. Naveen stared at her intently, as she concentrated on recalling the past. "You knew, I only met her once or twice. She was Georgia's friend, not mine. I saw her once at Cal's when I was just about 17. She had a voice like a bell and her eyes was as blue as the sky. She and Georgia were gossiping together, talking about all the new fashions. Prob'ly saw her at a party or something once or twice, not that I could go to one of those that often, what with Cal's and Duke's..." She shook her head thoughtfully. "Poor guards. Poor people. Killed by the guards, killed by that damn mother of yours. Poor Katie Burwell, killed by the Klan. Fuck the Klan..."

"Fuck the Klan?!" Naveen spat back at her. She looked at him, startled, her mouth wide open, for she had never heard him use such language in front of her before. "The Klan is a violent band of prejudiced, uncivilized criminals!" he went on. "All they want to do is spread hatred and violence! You know it more than I ever could, and you know that they're not worth thinking about!" He saw now how he had startled her, and calmed himself, speaking to her in a more gentle tone. "We both know that it is not the Klan that has you feeling so upset, is it, darling? No..." He shook his head and took another drag of his cigarette, then blew a clear blue smoke ring into the air. "It's death." They both gazed into the smoke ring for a few moments before it dissipated into the air. "What you fear is mortality. The loss of all those who you knew so well, and the knowledge that there will be more to follow."

Tiana listened blankly, not blinking her eyes or showing any emotion. "That girl, Katie Burwell, damn well deserved to live just as much as I do. If the Klan was willin' to take her life, just think how much satisfaction they'd get if they had the chance to take mine."

"But that will not happen," Naveen replied confidently. "The Klan will never get that chance. Just because they took that girl doesn't mean that we'll give them the chance to take you, as well."

"I ain't afraid to die. Hell, in a way, I reckon it'll be happy, to be together with the ones I love again." A tear came to her eye, and she nervously brushed it away.

Naveen smiled at her through the smoke from his cigarette. "But that will be a long time from now," he informed her with a comforting pat on the shoulder, then leaned over her and whispered into her ear, "For both of us."

She smiled and looked at him as he took another drag on his thin white cigarette. She watched the bright orange flame glow at the end of it, watched the candles flickering in the room. She watched her husband lean back and puff on his cigarette, holding it firmly in his mouth as the smoke continued to peal off into the air, and she wished the moment would never end, that somehow 6:17 PM Greenwich Mean Time -- March 16, 1928 -- on this island, with her and Naveen seated beside her - would remain forever. 

But obviously, that was not the case.

()()()() 

The country's King and Queen may have been away, but this does not mean that Maldonia was not being run sufficiently, nor did it mean that there were no royal affairs or matters which needed to be dealt with, of course; no, there were meetings that had to be attended, foreign dignitaries that needed to be dealt with, but the Lady Nagina was more than equipped to handle all of this, along with the aid of the two Earls, Nigel and Clifford. She was coming up on fifty but still a strong, able-bodied woman, and she enjoyed the sense of power that she always gained when her son and daughter-in-law were away.

It had been a busy morning at the royal palace, but at the moment Nagina was speaking to her brother over the telephone in her private chambers, about a more personal matter within the royal family itself, the ailing health of Naveen's uncle.

"You went to see Akhil just yesterday, I understand?" she asked brusquely.

"Oh, yes, my sister," Ojas's voice came back cheerfully over the other line. "It was a most pleasant visit - his mother was there too, I'm sure you've met old Niru - and we talked on and on about old times and he was quite in high spirits...."

Nagina knit her eyebrows restlessly and frowned, listening further to her brother but only with the greatest impatience.

"We spoke of dear Lucas and we talked of those horrible deaths in February, of course, but also of those good days when Kabir was King, and that seemed to brighten him up..."

At this point Nagina cut him off. "Yes, yes, that's all very lovely. But what about his health? I seem to remember he had a stroke a few months ago, after all. Has his health deteriorated any further, since then? His mental faculties have returned to him?"

"Oh, yes, my sister," Ojas's voice replied heartily. "Indeed, he seemed sharp as a tack the whole time I was with him. I think his health has very much improved." He paused only to take a drag on his cigarette, and Nagina could hear him sharply inhaling the smoke. "We had a very good time catching up, yes, a very good time, indeed. He was most cheery, gay, healthy, and hale. The stroke appears to be nothing very serious, and he's just the same man he always was."

"Well, if that's the case, I suppose it's a shame the stroke couldn't have done its job properly," Nagina shot back, cutting him off once and for all. An air of false sweetness came into her voice, though, and she added, "It was very nice talking to you, my brother. Please be sure to let me know if the 61-year-old invalid and stroke victim ceases to be confined to his bed and becomes yet more cheery and hale, and if he suffers another stroke any time soon, you can assure his mother that he will have a far nicer crypt in the royal cemetery than the bastard who murdered his son. Thank you." And with that she hung up the receiver very roughly, and then left the room with great haste.

Her 8-year-old son, Kanad, waited for her outside the door, looking up at her with bright eyes. "Well, did you talk to Uncle Akhil? Is he feeling better?"

"I am told that he is, but I have not spoken to him for over a month now," Nagina responded dryly. "I was talking to your uncle Ojas on the phone just now, and from what he tells me, Akhil is getting along famously."

"Well, that's good!" Kanad said enthusiastically. "You think he might be able to come up to the castle sometime soon if he gets better?"

"I'm sure you would like that, wouldn't you? Considering how he spoils you with sweets." Nagina's eyebrows furrowed, and although not completely dismissive of her son, she was in a hurry to move on to the next meeting she had planned, one which would be taking place face-to-face.

"Well, at least my big brother will be back soon, right?" Kanad continued smiling up at his mother. "Do you think he and Queen Tia are having a good time?"

"I was young once, so I can guarantee you they have been enjoying themselves in ways you would not begin to understand," his mother said. "Now, why don't you run along and play, and I can speak to you later." She had her eyes fixed on him firmly, and he gave her an understanding nod of his head before she moved on down the string of hallways that were filled with statues of Bolda and covered with gray velvet carpets. There were numerous stands that leaned against the wall. Some were filled with a few new vases, but most of them were nearly completely bare, as the majority of the vases and antiques which had stood on them had been destroyed over a month ago by the wave of Maldonian citizens that had broken into the palace. (The statue of King Ravidas was still undergoing heavy repair.)

At last she came to the office of Yadav, Head of Security. The door was closed, but she opened it and stepped inside without knocking. Yadav himself sat at his desk looking over some paperwork that was stacked on the table very closely, a thick brown cigar clenched between his fingers.

As soon as he looked up and saw who had entered the room, however, he hastily mashed out his cigar and stood up, bowing before her and kneeling so that his knees almost touched the floor.

"Your Most Gracious Majesty, what brings you here?" he asked in a tone that conveyed great fear, just barely masked as deep respect.

Nagina could see the tension and anxiety written all over his face, but she only stood and watched him expressionlessly through narrowed eyes, letting the silence drag on. Finally, a slight smile came to her face, and she said, "It is nothing much, Yadav. I just have some mild business we should attend to, just a few concerns I'd like to address with you." 

All at once Yadav relaxed, and he came out and pulled out a chair in front of his desk. "Of course, Your Majesty. Do please sit down."

Nagina moved forward and quietly sat watching him, never removing her gaze for an instant. He walked to the opposite side of the desk, sat down, and opened the drawer, in which he kept the box of his finest cigars. He removed one carefully, snipped the end off with a cigar cutter that lay on the corner of the table, then took one of the matches that was strewn across the bottom of the drawer and struck it on his thumbnail. Nagina continued to watch him closely as the orange flame jumped in front of his cigar, rising and falling up and down as he sucked at the end. He had a confident smile on his face as the air filled with smoke, and he took the cigar from his mouth. He then shook the match out, laid it on his desk, and blew a great cloud of smoke from his lips as he leaned back in pure bliss. "So, Your Majesty," he said, "what business do you have to bring to my attention?" 

Nagina leaned in closely, and when she spoke, it was in a tone that was quiet, but perfectly clear. "Like I said, it is nothing much, just a slight concern that I have. I have become aware that many of your guards have an idea that you are planning on resigning sometime soon."

Yadav looked mildly sheepish for a moment, but he pulled on his cigar and savored the fine tobacco as he considered his words carefully. He blew the smoke back out with a nod. 

"But why would you quit such an important, high-paying job working under the King himself?" Nagina cooed, her words soft and sweet. 

"I have risen too far in the world, my Lady," Yadav said, the confident smile returned to his face. "I have gotten too big for my britches. It is time that I retire and pursue a humbler position. There is plenty that I can do, with my experience, and I am sure that you can find a suitable replacement, who will make sure you are more than able to get on without me." 

Nagina appeared very thoughtful for a moment, and Yadav could not read her emotions at all. Then she murmured, "Well, I am sure that things will not be the same without you, but if your mind is made up, then I suppose this is farewell." 

Yadav nodded and took another powerful pull on his cigar, filling the air with tobacco smoke. "Wishing you the best, your Majesty," he said, and stood up. Tapping ash onto the tray, he then stood up, his shoulders held high with great dignity, and (shifting his cigar to the left) held out his right hand for the former Queen to shake. "It has been an honor and a wonderful experience working under you."

"Of course, my dear Yadav. And we do wish you all the best." Nagina held out her hand and shook his with a hearty smile so bright, happy, and large that it creased the edges of her face. He didn't notice her carefully easing the cigar out of his left hand until she pressed it into his palm with as much force as she could muster.

At first Yadav only flinched, then suddenly he let out a horrible primal yell. As his flesh burned he screamed again, filled with pure pain and agony, and looked at Nagina in astonishment. Her own face contorted into an inhuman snarl, she slapped him across the face, then when he cried out again, she punched him in the mouth so hard that it sent him falling headfirst to the floor.

"We don't want anyone to hear you, do we, Yadav?" she said very quietly, as she leaned down over him and pressed the cigar even deeper into his palm. The pain was almost unendurable, but he merely moaned, his eyes rolling in his head, and forced himself to nod in agreement. 

His lips bled and his head ached from where it had hit the marble floor, but Nagina showed no signs of pity. "Listen to me, you idiot, and please listen carefully," she whispered. "I thought our agreement was perfectly clear. You ratted me out to save your own ass only a month ago, and I have been told now that you feel deeply sorry for poor Leni and the men he lost. How am I to know that, once released from our services, you will not attempt to clear his good name?"

"Your Majesty, I am eternally loyal to you and the Royal Fam..." 

"Shut up, fool," Nagina hissed. "We saw how far your loyalty extended last month, but you will recover your sense of loyalty, and you will remain loyal to me and to this family now. You have prepared no resignation notice, and none shall be penned. Need I not remind you of the terms of our agreement, after all? There's a lot more than physical pain I can do to you, you imbecile. Do you realize the secrets I could dig up?"

This time Yadav had the good sense to say nothing. He simply nodded again, his eyes beginning to well up with tears, which Maldonian men were almost never expected to shed.

"Those secrets could drive you into the grave, Yadav," Nagina's soft voice cooed into his ear. "And never forget one thing, above all else: I - OWN - you."

She stood up now, letting the stub of a cigar drop to the floor, and looked around cautiously. She listened with her ears carefully pealed, for any sign that there was someone outside the door. She then looked around the room again, her eyes searching for something. "If there is a resignation notice hiding away in here somewhere, I will have to ask that it be destroyed," she said, staring down at Yadav with contempt. She then walked to his desk and took another one of his cigars out. "Do you want another one?" She threw it down by his side, then gave him a solid kick to the groin.

At first, he made no sound, but then when she could hear him moaning from the pain of it all, she felt a sense of true satisfaction and walked from the room without another word.

Yadav listened for the sound of her footsteps as she made her way down the hall. All three of the main layers of skin on his hand had been completely burned through, and there was already pus beginning to form in the gaping, bloody wound in his palm. The left side of his face was red, and his head felt as though it would explode. He knew he should get up to see about dressing his wounds, but he could not manage to stand, so instead he simply rolled over on his side and wept, occasionally crying out in pain and misery.

Some of the guards who walked past could hear his ejaculations inside as they patrolled the hallways, but they showed him no more pity than the Lady Nagina had, especially the eldest two, Axel and Dieter. They had often heard him weep lately, crying out for the loss of the men who had worked under him.

"Arrogant, hypocritical, self-pitying, loathsome son of a bitch," Axel snorted.

"He didn't feel half as bad when he was giving out the order," Dieter remarked. "He didn't feel bad enough to take responsibility instead of letting Leni take the fall."

"Leni's a good man. So was Hendit. He knew how to follow orders from another who is not. And where did that get him?" 

"The same place the man who sent him there should end up. To be honest with you, I think it would be a blessing from above if somebody took care of that parasite once and for all...." 

()()()()

It was early into the morning by the time the Queen and King of Maldonia stirred under the beautiful white sheets at the end of their anniversary getaway. The nurse Amala had already taken their infant child, and they had barely enough time to throw together and enjoy a small breakfast of chicken and rice with beignets and red beans on the side (Naveen helping himself to the ham from the iron refrigerator in addition), before their two royal bodyguards arrived at the door of the cottage to meet them at the prescribed time.

Walking hand-in-hand with her husband as Tinjeh and Fredrich led the way, Tiana gazed around them at the five guards who remained posted diligently around the grounds and waved at them. They all bowed politely in response, and Tiana returned the bow. She took deep breaths of the gorgeous spring air and walked loosely in her step as they made their way down the path as quietly as if they were figures in a dream. 

The royal car was parked at the long fence manned by the two guards, with the same unfamiliar driver sitting behind the wheel smoking a cigarette as he waited for them. The two guards who manned the fence immediately set to work unlocking it and moving the doors aside as soon as they saw the royal bodyguards approach, and the driver immediately put out his cigarette and stepped outside, opening the back doors for Tiana and Naveen with a salute. He carefully helped both of them inside, and Tinjeh and Fredrich then moved into their positions to the right of Naveen and the left of Tiana respectively without any assistance.

As they drove off down the winding country road, Tiana gazed at the white ducks flying over the pink lilac bushes which were just starting to bloom at the ides of March, and felt at once so invigorated that Naveen took her hand and rubbed it gently as the car moved steadily along.

They were at the harbor before they knew it, and the driver immediately opened the doors to let them out. This time Fredrich stepped aside and then helped Tiana out, who looked at Tinjeh waiting patiently on the other side of Naveen for the moment that he would have permission to come out and assist him.

“Let him out first, sir,” Tiana said to the driver, who shot Naveen a puzzled glance. Naveen nodded his head in response, and the driver walked to the other side and helped Tinjeh out without any complaints. Naveen got out right after him, and seeing the King take out a cigarette, the driver hastily took a lighter from his vest and lit it for him. Both Tiana and Naveen thanked him, as did Tinjeh, and the driver quietly bowed before them before muttering to himself in confusion as he cupped the lighter behind his hands to his own cigarette.

Tinjeh and Fredrich stepped in front of the King and Queen as they walked up the modest brown dock to the great luxurious ship which already lay moored waiting for them. Somehow, Tiana thought, it seemed to beckon them on to another life, a world full of responsibilities and terrors that for two glorious days had seemingly been rendered non-existent. 

She felt her heart skip a few beats before her pulse began pounding relentlessly as she walked. Every step brought her closer and closer to the world of violence and fear, she knew that, and the more she knew it she wanted to stay in this land of unreality forever. Naveen, sensing her feelings and shifting his cigarette to his left hand, gripped her arm tightly in his. 

Her heart was beating in her throat now as they walked up the plank, faster and faster every moment. When she had almost made it up and was staring at Tinjeh and Fredrich waiting up ahead of her on the deck, she stopped completely. Her head felt as if there was a volcano inside, churning and waiting to explode – and she could feel the baby kick her – staring at the large and endless blue mass of water, she felt as though as the whole world were about to collapse beneath her, and her stomach gave a great lurch. 

Naveen’s comforting hand gave her a light pat on the back, and she turned to look into the eyes of her smiling husband calmly waiting for her. Tinjeh and Fredrich were already growing impatient, but the King of Maldonia was going to give her as much time as she needed. He would wait all day if that’s what it took for her to be content. And all at once her heart slowed and then began to beat again, pounding with a different feeling of passion and ecstasy – and then Naveen saw her gulp as her stomach took another lurch.

Immediately he ushered them forward onto the deck, and standing with her head over the side, Tiana let loose her stomach’s nauseous content and saw her regurgitated chicken and rice go sailing away into the sea. She almost collapsed and Naveen hurriedly moved forward to catch her, dropping his cigarette over the side as a reflex. As she looked up into his eyes and felt the great arms enclosing her body, the feeling of unreality came to her yet again, and she looked at him uncertainly before he smiled, and then her face grew into a smile too.

He helped her steady once more on her feet, and for a long while she simply sat burying her face into his shoulders in a deep embrace. She did not want to open her eyes and see that beautiful island drift away into the past – but as the ship began to move, she knew that open them she must. 

The world was still there, still full of light and heat and beauty. And as Tiana watched the beautiful greenery above the island’s shore slip away and the deep blue depths took over, she felt a weight leaving her stomach and an emptiness in her heart, knowing the past and present were fading away. What was left now, at the end of their voyage, was the future – she knew not what would happen, nor could guess. But as she thought of her baby inside, and the infant child who was already sleeping peacefully in his cot onboard the ship, her soul felt a lightness. 

Whatever would come could not be told, whether for good or bad. But many wonders still lay ahead, many adventures to be had. And there was home on the other side – and her friends and family waiting patiently in the old lands of Maldonia and Lousiana, both lying ahead across the globe – for the day she would return and reunite to make new memories. That was what made her easy, knowing what was yet to happen, and knowing that she need not worry about it now, for it was all ahead. The troubled times full of strife and violence were behind them now – and she knew, if ever they came again, she would be ready. She was coming for them, coming for them all with her heart in her hand and a new child on the way – and it was they, they who should fear, pass away, and lay in wait.


End file.
